


she says he's a scoundrel

by lost in space (princess_zel)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Bounty Hunters, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bounty Hunters, DameRey, Endgame Damerey, Endgame Jedipilot, Eventual Poe Dameron/Rey, F/M, I'm bad at canon, JediPilot, POV Rey (Star Wars), PoeRey, Reypoe, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Spice Runner Poe Dameron, bounty hunter rey, i HATE canon, spice runners
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22441315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princess_zel/pseuds/lost%20in%20space
Summary: Young and determined, Rey is a bounty hunter, desperately in need of credits. After happening on an offer that could fuel her ship for years, she's quick to jump at the opportunity. She'll catch the blasted spice running scoundrel, Poe Dameron, if it's the last damned thing she does.
Relationships: Poe Dameron & Rey, Poe Dameron/Rey
Comments: 55
Kudos: 58





	1. a spice running scoundrel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is mildly terrifying, lol. i dunno why i'm so scared posting for this fandom, but i am.
> 
> Star Wars + canon + me = chaos, hence why this is a canon divergent AU.
> 
> trigger warnings: mention of alcohol beverages/certain characters drinking throughout/some leering men. there's also the seducing/drugging of a character.
> 
> hopefully i remembered everything :///
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> ~Elsie

Scrolling through her holopad aimlessly, Rey browses through the various offerings without much thought. While her last delivery went relatively smooth, it hadn’t brought her many credits, and her freighter doesn’t go easy on the fuel. She really needs to restock soon but doesn’t currently have the credits to do so.

She needs a _job_. A good one, too.

Her eyes drift carefully to one listing: a man by the name of Poe Dameron. Currently a spice runner of Kijimi. Initially from the moon, Yavin IV. Known across the galaxy for being a blasted scoundrel.

The numbers that follow his name and profile almost startle her out of her seat. The amount of credits being offered for his capture could fuel her old rustbucket for _years_. A determined smile spreads across her features as she continues her research.

Last seen in the Outer Rim in the Cantonica System, Poe Dameron is wanted by a _lot_ of wealthy people. She wonders what he could have done to upset them so violently, but it doesn’t matter, really. All she needs to do is find him and turn him in.

It’s a simple delivery job, just the kind that Rey’s good at, and if he’s in the Cantonica System, chances are he’s at the casino city, Canto Bight. 

Punching in the coordinates to the Cantonica System, Rey does some calculations before deciding that she’ll have enough fuel for a quick getaway if she needs one. Without much further thought, she prepares for a jump to hyperspace.

“Honestly… He won’t even know what hit him,” she says to herself. Her helmet lies beside her, safely resting in her copilot’s seat. With careful fingers, she picks it up, fiddling with it absentmindedly. As she makes the jump to hyperspace, the helmet goes securely over her head, and depending on how this delivery goes, she decides that things may work out for her after all.

The trip to Cantonica isn’t long, and before she knows it, Rey’s requesting access to land in one of Canto Bight’s many hangars. Upon her arrival, she briefly checks her appearance with a glass mirror she’s set up in the crew’s quarters.

Lifting her helmet visor, she sees her practical cloth bindings and decides to change into a form fitting jumpsuit. Before she walks down the ramp, she makes sure to check for the blaster and stun gun located in hidden holsters on her side. They’re both there. Then, she slips a plastic packet in her breast pocket, knowing that she’s now as prepared as she ever will be.

She’s going to catch Poe Dameron if it’s the last damned thing she does.

The walk from the hangar to the bright city with luminous lights isn’t very far, and she finds a rough and tumble bar located near the city outskirts. From what she’s read on Dameron, she won’t find him mingling with the rich weapon sellers of the central part of the city. It would attract too much attention to his person, particularly when he’s wanted by a lot of these rich patrons.

A smirk slides into place beneath her mask as she enters the bar, lifting her visor. Immediately, she’s hit with loud noise and the smell of alcohol as an alien band plays towards the back of the establishment. There’s a bar for drinks, a place for mingling in the center, sabacc tables behind it, and plenty of booths lining the place.

Hopping up on a bar stool, she leans against the counter, ordering her first drink of the night. Despite her lithe, lean body, she’s definitely not a lightweight and can hold her own when it comes to alcohol.

Even as different men approach her, her eyes are peeled for the sight of the dashing spice runner who’s worth more than her weight in credits. He should be here. She’s so sure of her decision to come here that she can almost sense his presence.

Yes, he’s here somewhere.

She just needs to be patient and wait.

And, kriff, does Rey know of patience and waiting. Drumming her fingers lightly against the counter, she sips at her drink, not minding the way it froths at her mouth and quite enjoying the light buzz it gives her.

Before long, she’s emptied her glass, and she orders a second, still waiting to catch a glimpse of the blasted spice runner.

She can feel everything all around her… The very essences of the people nearby unravel like spools of thread, and she grasps at them, pulling them toward her and deciphering them. There are a few that interest her, but she’s particularly interested in the familiar golden thread leading to a man drinking in a booth toward her left.

Her body goes into autopilot, and she picks up her drink, sauntering over to where she knows she’ll find him. And there he is, downing a drink and arguing with a Wookie, a white and orange droid at his feet.

Adjusting the suit that fits her like a second skin, she decides to leave the visor to her helmet up, revealing her face and approaching the man and the Wookie with caution. There’s a seat free beside him, and Rey slips in without further thought, allowing her doe eyes and innocent smile to do the work for her.

The man’s instantly taken with her; she can tell from the way his eyes darken as they scan her appraisingly. “And who might you be?” he asks, his voice a husky tenor. She decides that she might like it.

“A friend,” she replies directly, “If you’ll have me.”

His lips twist into a smirk that’s only rivaled by her own. “Is that so?” he questions, noting the way her body presses against him in the small booth.

Her hazel eyes flick over to the Wookie for a moment before nodding, “Quite. Poe Dameron, isn’t it?” She takes another sip of her drink before setting the empty glass on the table.

“Yes,” he acknowledges before tilting his head to examine her more closely. “You look… You look rather familiar. Have we met before?”

They have, actually. But Rey won’t tell him that. Instead, she parts her lips and gives him a mischievous smile. “Yes,” she shrugs lightly. “In your dreams.” Then, she rises from her seat, tossing him a look from over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”

Poe Dameron studies her closely, and briefly, fear seizes Rey’s heart. But then, he follows her, the same smirk he wore when she arrived permanently etched onto his handsome features.

His droid whistles in protest, and Dameron reassures it easily, “Don’t worry, buddy; I’ll be back here in a minute, I promise. Wait here for me, okay?” The golden essence of his Force signature pulses a brilliant light, one that soothes Rey’s very soul. “Apologies for the delay. I hate to keep a lady waiting.”

Rolling her eyes, Rey jaunts ahead to the bar, knowing that he’ll follow. “Care for a drink?” she asks him.

“I’m afraid I’ll be the one buying the drinks for today, ma’am,” Dameron gives her a devilishly grin, shoving credits across the counter in exchange for two glasses.

Rey responds in kind, accepting the glass and nervously fumbling for the plastic bag in her pocket. “Thank you,” she says softly, placing a hand on his muscled chest in what she assumes is a flirtatious gesture. She’s got a hold of the packet now, and when Dameron places his glass down to look curiously into her eyes, she sees her chance. The powder’s poured into his drink before he can notice - too busy trying to lean closer to her.

“Perhaps we should take this outside,” Dameron’s voice drops considerably, and he reaches for his glass. His breath skims across her exposed neck, and she feels her cheeks flush with anticipation.

Blinking heavily in a way that she knows will favor her long lashes, Rey nods her head in agreement, “Perhaps we should…”

They exit the bar together, glasses in hand, and Rey wonders for a moment whether or not she’ll be able to carry him all the way to her ship. Perhaps being Force sensitive will actually prove to be useful for once.

“You’re stunning,” Dameron breathes, downing the rest of his drink in one go.

Rey flashes him a brilliant smile, “Thank you.” She counts to ten carefully in her head, finding the stun gun still ready in her holster. “And I’m sorry,” she adds as an afterthought.

Sinking to his knees in confusion, Dameron flings the glass away from him, looking up at her in an odd mixture of recognition and betrayal. The empty glass shatters on the cold, wet ground as he watches her, dark eyes fading in and out of consciousness.

The city lights seem less vibrant here, in this empty alleyway full of shadows, and the spice runner collapses on the floor, aided in part by Rey’s stun gun.

Her lips pursing together in resign, she stoops to pick him up, her arms reaching under his own. Once she’s got him firmly in her grasp, she briefly debates using the Force to carry him before deciding to drag him away instead, back to her freighter and away from the lonely bar.

Lugging him up the boarding ramp, she drops him on the floor of the main hold, beginning to prepare her controls.

She can almost taste the wine she’ll be able to buy with the credits she receives for this man. She can almost feel the way her ship will rumble when it has adequate fuel. She can’t wait until the assurance she’ll get from this delivery.

Things are finally looking up, all thanks to this spice running scoundrel. She’s most certainly relieved.

Aware that the effects of her stun gun may be wearing off, Rey supposes that she should go check on her prisoner. “You’re a fool, Dameron.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kjkjaghkjdhfg so i'm estimating this to be about 10 chapters long, but i know that... aha... may not end up being the case. i also don't know how i feel about the title either so that may change eventually, lol.
> 
> i currently have 6 chapters prewritten so i'm feeling pretty damn good right now!!
> 
> ~Elsie


	2. a kind of kriffing hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey has Poe Dameron right where she wants him... passed out on the floor of her ship. She ventures back to the bar to retrieve Poe's droid at his stubborn insistence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! a second chapter lol. i never have self control, especially when i have prewritten chapters stored away.
> 
> trigger warnings: some injury, punks in a bar, gross men in a bar, mention of a bar fight. damn, please forgive me if i ever miss anything.
> 
> eee, hopefully everything's all good. again, super super nervous about posting to this fandom, lol.
> 
> ~Elsie

“Hello,” she says easily, her honeyed voice drifting dangerously to his ears. She drops to one knee, examining him calculatingly as he lies there on the cold, steel floor. “Poe Dameron,” she continues musingly, more to herself than anyone else. Her hazel eyes run carefully over his form, taking notice of his ripped clothing and the messy dark curls that frame his face.

The scoundrel grits his teeth as he struggles slowly on the floor, the drugs she slipped into his drink beginning to take effect.

With a grim sort of satisfaction, she removes her helmet for the first time and frees a head of pretty chestnut locks that barely reach her small shoulders. “I bet you feel _awful_ right about now,” she notes.

Barely able to lift a hand up in protest, the man groans in reply.

“You know,” she runs a finger lightly down his broad chest, “it really is a pleasure to meet you, Dameron.” She allows her helmet to drop to the floor beside her as she continues to inspect her prisoner. “Unfortunately for you, you’re wanted in at least fifteen other different systems. And fortunately for _me_ , I’m going to deliver you to them and collect some cold hard credits for my trouble.”

At that, Dameron writhes on the floor, desperate for an escape and begging his tortured muscles to fight back.

Shaking her head at his foolishness, she watches as he struggles, his eyes almost lolling back in pain. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You’re already pretty drugged up. An escape is no longer a possibility, and resisting will only make it worse.” She stands to prepare the ship for takeoff.

“If-” Dameron manages to stutter out, and she pauses for a moment in surprise. “If you’re so determined to take me,” he barely manages to choke out, “then remember my droid. _Don’t_ leave my droid.” He’s sprawled on the floor now, muscles spasming and convulsing frightfully. “Please.”

Her lips twisting into a steady frown, Rey knows that it’s risky. Going back to the bar to retrieve this man’s droid could result in his escape: either his own or into the hands of another desperate bounty hunter. Still, he watches her pleadingly as his body is rocked painfully again and again.

Withdrawing a taser from a pouch on her side, she puts him to rest on the floor, locking all the hatches and walking down the boarding ramp. “ _Fine_.” Even though he can’t hear her, an annoyed groan escapes her lips as she relents, heading back into the rowdy bar.

The strong stench of alcohol stings her nostrils once again as she pushes through the crowd of inebriated people, desperately searching out the white and orange BB unit Dameron was with earlier in the night.

As she moves, she’s consistently met with the drunken gazes of lecherous men, and one particularly bulky one even tries to grab at her. Indignant, Rey attempts to gather herself, realizing in dismay that she left her helmet back aboard her ship. With it on, she feels powerful, untouchable by men who can barely walk straight. Without it, she feels lost and uncertain… exposed before the entire galaxy.

When she gets back on her ship, she resolves that she’ll put it back on straightaway. She won’t let this happen ever again. Straining to hear above the abominable music that’s being played on a stage toward the back of the establishment, Rey thinks she can hear the high chirps of the little droid.

Quickening her strides, she races through the crowd to the back, where she knows the games of sabacc are being played. Within seconds, she finds what she’s looking for. The little droid looks afraid as dangerous men surround it, probing it with their pudgy hands and speculating on how much it’s worth.

“I bet I could get a hundred credits for this thing,” one of the men boasts, slamming his hand on the table.

A Rodian hunter sneers at his confidence in its native tongue, “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. Your luck with bets hasn’t been the best of late.”

The table roars with laughter, and the man flushes in drunken fury. “You take that back!” he demands, puffing his chest in anger.

Immediately, the whole table erupts as people begin to pick sides, yelling loudly in order to be heard over the already chaotic bar atmosphere.

Rey senses a fight is about to break out, and she beckons to the little droid as discretely as possible. It lets out a surprised little whistle, beginning to roll over to her before being noticed by the man and the Rodian.

“What do you think _you’re_ doing, girl?” the man questions, placing a hand possessively on the little droid’s head.

Keeping her voice as steady as her nerves will allow, Rey responds cooly, “The droid isn’t for sale. I’m to return it to its master, and, while I sympathize with your misfortune at the sabacc table, I’m afraid you’ll have to receive your credits from elsewhere.”

The man’s outraged, but his mates at the table bark with laughter at her bold impertinence. He sputters with anger, and the Rodian hunter taunts him, frustrating him further.

“So,” Rey begins slowly, remembering to turn on her charm. “If you all would excuse me… I have some business to attend to before midnight. But if there’d be no objection,” she says, batting her long lashes, “I would like to return later tonight if at all possible.” She spins on her heels, throwing a sultry look over her shoulders. “Thank you, gentlemen, for your assistance.”

The BB unit follows after her as she pushes her way through the crowded bar, desperately hoping that her prisoner hasn’t yet escaped or, worse, been stolen from her. “Hurry,” she calls to the little droid, her heart thundering wildly in her chest. From the loud noises behind her, she can tell that the sabacc table has now ruptured into a fight, and she hopes that none of them have chosen to follow her.

She manages to leave the bar without further incident, thudding up a set of stairs to the nearby hangar. Carefully, she escorts the droid up into her freighter, closing all the hatches and hopping into the cockpit. She spares a short glance to her prisoner, relieved when she finds him passed out, cold, on the floor.

Performing all her lightspeed calculations as quickly as she can, she prepares the ship for takeoff, not wanting to stick around this system much longer. It’s crawling with shady figures, and she has no desire to run into any trouble.

Letting out a little squeal of surprise, the BB unit rolls to her in alarm at its master’s indisposed state. _[Oh, no, no! What have you done to Master-Poe?!]_

Guilt clutches at her chest, and she keeps her gaze steadily ahead of her, unable to look at the little droid. “I’m sorry,” she says shortly, annoyed that she feels any guilt to begin with. “He’s just… sleeping for now. He’ll be up and awake in about an hour or two,” she continues, willing herself to shut up.

This is no time to be getting attached, especially not to a cute little droid that appears to see through her very soul.

 _[Let me assist you with your lightspeed calculations.]_ the BB unit suggests. _[Then, you can place Master-Poe in a bed, and his condition will not worsen during a jump to hyperspace.]_

Surprised at its ingenuity, Rey considers its offer before deciding to accept. It wouldn’t do to deliver her charge all banged up, she supposes. Rising from her seat in the cockpit, she goes to where the man’s lying on the floor of the main corridor. “Don’t mess with any of my controls,” she warns sharply.

Then, she turns her attention to the wanted man passed out on the floor of her freighter. “Oh, Mr. Dameron,” she muses, even though she knows he won’t hear her. “I hope you’re not heavy.”

He’s not more than a few inches taller than she is, but his shoulders are broad, and she can tell that he has muscle. A peaceful expression has overtaken his features, so different from the smirk he wore in the bar or the pained twist of his lips just thirty minutes ago. He’s quite handsome, she decides, with his dark curls, tan skin, and defined features.

Determinedly, she gathers him into her arms, lugging him to the main hold where she can strap him to a couch and leave him to rest.

“Oh, good grief,” she mutters. “You’re heavy.” She has slight difficulty lifting him onto the couch but eventually succeeds in dumping him on top of it. Arranging his limbs in a decent fashion, she can feel his toned muscles through the cargo pants and loose shirt he’s wearing. Feeling his forehead, she’s mildly worried when she realizes that he’s burning up with some kind of fever. She can’t remember if this is merely a side effect of the knockout drugs she used or if it could be something more serious.

Either way, she removes his leather jacket and leaves it folded up on the holochess table. “Alright, Mr. Dameron,” she whispers, “I hope you have a good rest. You’re going to need it, where we’re going.” With that, she stands and heads back to the cockpit, where the little droid is finishing up its calculations.

“What’s your name?” she asks carefully, sinking into her pilot’s seat and feeling instant relief for her sore muscles.

 _[I’m Beebee-Ate,]_ the BB unit replies in a low whistle.

She prepares for takeoff before offering the droid a guarded smile, “Okay, Beebee-Ate. I’m Rey. Thank you for your help with the calculations. It’ll be good to have a copilot again.”

BB-8 rocks back and forth excitedly, _[Friend-Rey, Master-Poe is an excellent pilot! I’m sure he would be delighted to assist you when he awakens.]_

Petting its domed head, Rey feels her smile grow, if only by a little. “I’m sure he is. But I meant you, little one.”

Thrilled by her flattery, BB rolls in a happy circle. _[Friend-Rey is too kind. Are we prepared for takeoff?]_

“That we are, Beebee,” she replies, placing a finger on a button. “I’d imagine you might want to brace yourself.”

With that, they takeoff from the hangar, rising into open space. Rey puts the ship in autopilot for a while, analyzing her holomap for the most optimal route to their first destination. For a man wanted in over fifteen different systems, Poe Dameron sure didn’t hide himself well in the bar that night.

As Rey scrolls through the various offerings for the spice runner she has knocked out cold in the back, she finds one that suits her fancy… a deal for over a hundred million credits.

A hundred million credits.

She can’t even remember the last time she saw a number with that many zeros.

Her happiness is short-lived when she sees who’s offering up the money. A curse escapes her lips as she reads the name to herself. 

“Rotta the Hutt. Damn it.”

Her family has never really had good dealings with the Hutts, yet here she is, setting course for the desert planet, Tatooine. If he doesn’t have Poe’s head on a platter, then Rotta most certainly will have Rey’s.

Damn it all.

Still… for a hundred million credits, she supposes the risk may be worth it. Once they make the jump to hyperspace, Rey drums her fingers on the dashboard absentmindedly. Of course it would come to this.

She finally escaped from her life and her family, but they pursue her even now, haunting her with their past dealings with the Hutts.

Double checking her coordinates over and over, Rey can’t help a horrible uneasiness washing over her. The BB unit seems to sense her discomfort, bumping into her leg with a worried whistle.

Her lips twisting into a bitter smile, she leans over in her seat, fixing the little one’s antenna. “I’m terribly sorry for all this, Beebee.”

 _[No, no, Friend-Rey! You rescued me from those bad men who were going to sell me. Master-Poe will be forever grateful.]_ The little droid hums contentedly near her as she watches it fondly.

A loud thud in the back alerts her that the scoundrel’s awake, and she stands from her seat, motioning for the droid to follow her. “It seems that your master has awoken,” she notes simply, striding through the corridor back to the main hold where she left him a few hours ago.

BB-8 follows closely behind her, trailing at her heels. Hitting the lights on her way in, Rey gets a better look at the blasted spice runner strapped onto her couch.

A darkening bruise is present on his face, and he squints as he adjusts to the sudden incoming light. He looks as though he hasn’t shaved in days, and his dark curls are in an attractive state of disarray. “Who are you?” His voice is husky and scratchy from lack of use, and he looks on her with confused interest.

“I’m Rey,” she replies shortly, making no move to remove the ties that bind his hands together.

BB-8 whizzes past her, curiously worried for its master. _[Master-Poe! Friend-Rey rescued me from bad men in the bar. Are you feeling fully functional? While you were asleep, I performed a test on all your vitals, and you appear to be functioning properly.]_

The spice smuggler attempts to sit up from where he’s positioned awkwardly on the couch, already annoyed at the tight ties around his wrists. “Well, _Rey_ ,” he says her name like a curse, “Would you mind giving me a hand with these ties? My hands are bloody asleep from them.”

She looks on him with obvious distrust, “You’re not escaping me, Dameron. The ties stay on.” Her lips press into a firm line, and she folds her arms over her chest.

“ _Dios_ ,” the runner mutters, still attempting to prop himself up against the couch. “Where am I going to go, princesa? We’re in the middle of hyperspace, and you’re the one holding the gun. Just take off these damn ties.”

With an exasperated sigh, Rey shakes her head, “The ties stay _on_.” She doesn’t speak another word, jaunting back to the cockpit without a second thought.

Another hour later, when he appears next to her with his hands tie-free, she shoots a glare at BB-8, who appears guiltily at his heels.

“I asked you, _Rey_ ,” the cheeky spice runner says, “but when you refused me, my little buddy helped me out. It would’ve been so much easier had we decided to be friends.”

“You’re insufferable,” Rey spits out, keeping her gaze trained ahead of her.

Still, she doesn’t say anything when he drops into the copilot seat beside her. He grins at her from her peripheral vision, and she groans inwardly.

Were a hundred million credits even worth it at this point?

What kind of kriffing hell had she gotten herself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...well... let me know what you think? 
> 
> it's been a while since i've been able to write non-academically so i feel as though my skills are a little rusty ://
> 
> thanks so much for reading :))) will have the next update out in a few days (if i manage to have enough self restraint to not post it before then, lol).
> 
> ~Elsie


	3. a need for credits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Poe bicker for a bit, and Rey decides which deal she's going to take concerning Poe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i believe the only trigger warning for this chap would be that Poe's restrained with ties (poor baby...).
> 
> please enjoy and let me know what you think!
> 
> ~Elsie

“So do you think that maybe I could-”

“ _No_ ,” Rey cuts him off shortly, slapping his hands away from the dashboard. “I’ve been running this junkpile without a copilot for years now. I don’t need your help with anything so keep your hands to yourself.”

His dark brows shoot up in disbelief at her acidity, and he moves to kick his feet up on the dash, laughing when she elbows him in the ribs. Hard. “Damn, princesa. You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?”

“Just shut up,” she grits out, not wanting to deal with his foolishness right now. If she messes up these calculations, their drop down to Tatooine will be a rough one. “Let me focus, Dameron.”

A bitter laugh escapes him as he leans onto the dash, draping the other arm over the side of his seat, “Let you focus, Rey? Contrary to what you might think, I’m not stupid.”

Her brow arches elegantly, “I never said that you were.” She’s suddenly slightly worried about where he might be getting at. She really should’ve replaced his restraints.

“So then you think I don’t know?” he questions probingly, sitting up straight in his seat and seeking her gaze. “You kidnapped me off Cantonica to take me to my certain death. Didn’t you, _bounty hunter_?” he says the last few words in a sneer. His eyes have darkened, and his face has twisted into an unpleasant frown.

She lifts her delicate chin in defiance, “And? So what if I am? I _need_ the credits.” She looks him squarely in the face now, willing him to understand.

He scoffs, slamming his hands on the sides of his chair. “This is all about you, now, princesa? What about the other millions of people in the galaxy who need credits? They’re not kidnapping and turning in people, no matter how much they need them. Some people actually have some level of self respect.” Abruptly, he stands, upsetting his seat and storming out of the cockpit.

“At least I haven’t done anything warranting a hundred million credit bounty being placed on my head,” she snaps back, temper flaring deep within her. Angrily, she punches a bunch of numbers into her holopad, ignoring the pair of dice dangling above her head with the rocking of her ship.

She hears a huff from down the corridor. “It’s all about the _credits_ with you,” he responds, the harshness cutting her to the very bone. The familiar golden thread of Force energy becomes tainted with red. He’s angry with her. She can’t exactly blame him.

Like he said, she kidnapped him off Cantonica in order to sell him for credits to the highest bidder. But what can she say? The minute he started smuggling spice, he put himself at risk. Put a price on his head. If it wasn’t her, it’d be another bounty hunter. He’s living the life of a criminal, the life of a wanted man. This is what he asked for, isn’t it?

A brief surge of sympathy courses through her as she sees the orange planet of Tatooine emerge from their drop from hyperspace. Striding down the corridor, she pokes her head around the corner, saying, “You might want to get up here and throw a seatbelt on. This may be a rough landing.”

Before she whips around to return to her seat up front, she catches sight of him, head in his hands as he slumps despondently on the couch. “Coming,” he mutters, voice shaking slightly. He returns to the copilot seat, wordlessly strapping himself in.

Once he’s seated, Rey calls to the BB-8 unit, “Beebee-Ate, are you ready? Brace yourself.” With that, she pulls down on a lever, causing the ship to hurtle through space and down toward Tatooine.

As the spice runner catches sight of the planet they’re approaching, his face twists into a scowl. “Oh, blast it all… Tatooine? This has got to be some kind of joke.”

“It’s no joke, Dameron,” Rey shrugs, checking and doublechecking her calculations as they begin their descent. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d really prefer you with your ties on. So give me a second to fix that.” Before he has the chance to protest, Rey pinches his wrists together behind his back, brandishing a new tie she has from one of her many pockets. With her prisoner finally restrained, Rey allows herself a little sigh of relief. “Much better,” she comments approvingly.

Dameron flushes with irritation as he struggles against his new bindings. “I know you’re trying to take me to the damn Hutt, but you _can’t_ , Rey. You can’t seriously be considering business with a Hutt. Do you have any clue what they’ve done to people? What they do to people? It’s barbaric!”

Anger coiling in the pit of her stomach, Rey’s quick to fire back, “Of course I know what the Hutts are like, _spice runner_. They’ve had many an encounter with my family. Don’t speak on things that you don’t understand.” Her hazel eyes rest on the pair of dice above their heads, softening a bit as she looks on them.

“Rey, I’ll come up with some way to match however much Rotta’s asking for,” Dameron pleads, desperately trying to meet his intense dark eyes with hers. “You just can’t take me to that damn Hutt. He’ll rip me to pieces.”

Rolling her eyes, Rey brings her ship to an elegant rest in the coarse Tatooine sand. “Not if I rip you to pieces first. Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are?”

“I get that a lot, actually,” he replies flippantly, an obvious attempt at lightening the mood. With a resigned groan, Dameron finally relents, “Fine. Take me to the Hutt. Just don’t let them lay a hand on my droid. Promise you’ll look out for the little buddy, no matter what happens to me.”

At that, Rey looks over at him, mildly stunned. “Are you… Are you worried for the sake of a _droid_?”

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Dameron notably avoids her gaze. “So what if I am? Just make sure it’s cared for. That’s all I ask.”

Before she has the chance to reply, the old freighter comes to a bumpy landing, thudding and skidding through the scattering sand. Leaving the spice runner in the cockpit, she heads to her quarters, knowing that all the hatches are locked and that she has all the privacy she desires here. She makes quick work of changing out of her clingy jumpsuit back into her comfortable cloth bindings.

As she returns to the cockpit, she retrieves her trusty helmet, placing it atop her head and leaving the visor up. “Get up,” she commands, making sure that all her weapons are secured. “It’s time to go.” When Dameron hesitates to rise from his seat all while giving her a shameless grin, Rey rolls her eyes and pulls her stun gun from its holster, “Don’t make me use this, spice runner.”

If anything, her threat only causes him to relax even further into his seat. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m sure you’d have a fun time, hauling me through all this sand to the Hutt palace,” he says, and she wants to wipe that infuriating smirk off his face.

Unceremoniously jerking him up by the collar of his shirt, Rey’s surprised when he stumbles forward, dangerously close to her. Her breath catches at the back of her throat as she clears it uncomfortably, heart beating rapidly in her chest. She wonders if he can feel it - how close she is to unraveling before him due to his close proximity.

When he backs away a few moments later, she can see the mischief in his eyes, and the pool of heated anger grows further. “Screw off, Dameron.” Her hazel eyes flash in annoyance as she nurses her injured pride. “Hurry up; I don’t have all day.”

“Alright, alright, I get it, Sunshine,” he huffs back, following her through the corridor and off onto the ramp.

Carefully, Rey checks to make sure all the hatches are locked. The last thing she needs is to return here and find her deathtrap of a ship stolen. Already, she can feel the sweltering heat of Tatooine’s twin suns beating down on her back, and she looks back at where Dameron is trudging miserably through the sand.

“Must you insist on dragging your feet? We’ve got places to be,” she complains frustratedly.

This time, it’s Dameron’s turn to roll his eyes as beads of sweat form on his brow, “Are you _sure_ Rotta is going to be happy to see you?” His leather boots aren’t suited for the sliding, sandy terrain, and his shirt is almost soaked through with sweat.

Sparing a glance back at her prisoner, she yanks her helmet visor down. “No. But I know that he’ll be happy to see _you_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, thank you for reading... things are starting out kind of rough and static-y for right now, but they'll definitely look up soon!
> 
> i'm hoping to be able to write some this weekend... it's been a wild week.
> 
> ~Elsie


	4. a really, really bad idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey arrives on Tatooine, ready to negotiate with the notorious crime lord, Rotta the Hutt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! it's me again.
> 
> trigger warnings: references to slavery of a more sexual nature (nothing too specific), but we're talking about the Hutts here. there's also some violence. Poe's also still bound up.
> 
> ~Elsie

Following their  _ lovely _ jaunt through the coarse Tatooine sand (with Dameron complaining the whole way there), Rey finds herself standing at the heavy metal doors to the Hutt palace. Hesitantly, she raises her hand to knock, stealing one last guilty look at her surprisingly compliant prisoner.

The desert hasn’t been kind to him, sand sweeping into his clothing and sweat causing his unruly curls to cling his forehead. “Can we just get on with this?” he questions impatiently, straining against the ties that she’s fastened around his wrists.

Squaring her shoulders, Rey doesn’t bother responding, instead choosing to yank his gag up and rap on the door loudly.

Moments later, a piece of rusted metal swings open, and a Gamorrean guard glares at her through the gap in the door.

“Hello,” she begins briefly. As she speaks, she hears Dameron squirming behind her and chooses to ignore him for now. Soon, he won’t be her problem anymore, and she’ll have enough credits to live in blissful luxury. “Will you please inform your master that Rey Solo is here with a… proposition to make?” Her breath catches in her throat as the flap swings close and she’s left to wait for a response.

Rocking back and forth on her heels, Rey finds herself more and more nervous with this whole situation. The golden Force thread that is Poe Dameron reaches out to her, wrapping her in a warm embrace. Desperately, she shakes it off, willing herself to focus on the task at hand.

Just when she thinks she can’t take it any longer, the huge door creaks open, and she walks in, dragging Dameron by the arm in after her. Cooly, she meets the gaze of a teal Twi’lek with sharpened teeth and a long black robe. The Gamorrean guard that let them in looks at her briefly before resuming his station at the door.

“Greetings,” Rey begins, eager to get this deal done and over with. “I’m Rey Solo, and I seek audience with your master, the illustrious Rotta the Hutt. If he so pleases, I have a gift to offer him… for a price.”

The Twi’lek responds in its native tongue, narrowing its eyes at her distrustfully. “What is a gift that it should cost something?”

Rey’s eyes flick over to where the spice runner’s standing, watching her hatefully as she attempts to negotiate his doom. “One that’s a highly sought after prize, dear friend,” she replies in Basic.

“Follow me,” the Twi’lek motions her forward, leading her past several more Gamorrean guards and into the Hutt throne room.

Foreign music is played, resonating heavily in her mind, but the real center of attention is a female Twi’lek with alluring purple skin and chains clamped around her wrists. She dances to the beat of the music, arching her back and twirling her lithe body seductively.

Following the length of the Twi’lek’s chains, she sees that they lead back to a young Hutt, sitting proudly on his throne. Despite his distinct lack in years, she knows that Rotta the Hutt has grown to prominence after the death of his father, Jabba, reclaiming much of the wealth that his father used to boast as a famous crime lord.

Lifting up her visor, Rey bows low, jerking Dameron behind her. “Greetings, most illustrious Rotta,” she begins in Basic. “I am Rey Solo, here seeking your audience to decide on a mutually beneficial bargain.”

To be quite honest, she’s surprised that Dameron still has yet to attempt an escape. Perhaps it’s the blaster securely tucked in a holster hanging from her pants that dissuades him. Perhaps the drugs she gave him have made him more lethargic and obedient. She supposes she’ll never know.

The music comes to a startling halt as she stands there, awaiting the Hutt’s approval.

Rotta laughs slowly, darkly. It eyes her with a pair of large yellow eyes, its lips twisting frighteningly. It yanks at the chain of the pretty Twi’lek dancer, tugging at her until she’s splayed against his grotesque body.

Rey feels distinctly uncomfortable, and she can feel Dameron stiffen behind her. “Your excellency?” she hears her voice speaking once more.

The Twi’lek advisor that led them here leans over to whisper in Rotta’s tiny ears, and Rey gulps. She doesn’t like the way this negotiation is going.

“Why are you here, girl?” the Hutt finally bellows, accompanied by his heaving laugh.

Stuttering to form a coherent answer, Rey attempts to regain her composure, “As I mentioned before, most magnificent Rotta, I am here to negotiate a deal. I am here to collect the bounty offered for the spice runner you’ve listed from Kijimi. His name is Poe Dameron, and if you still desire him, I’ll collect my credits and go.”

It could just be the unbearable Tatooine heat, but Rey’s sweating profusely now, and she swipes away at it, still waiting for a response from the crime lord.

“ _ Poe Dameron _ ,” the Hutt repeats the name like a wicked curse. It tugs on the chain again, forcing the poor Twi’lek even closer to its bloated body. “Blasted scoundrel still has yet to deliver the spice crates I was promised.”

“Yes, most esteemed Rotta,” Rey’s quick to agree; maybe she can capitalize on the Hutt’s anger and use it to her advantage. “He’s a blasted scoundrel, and for the right price, I can give him to you. Then, you can do whatever you please with him.”

The Hutt looks at her slowly, shamelessly smacking its lips and dragging its eyes up and down her slim form. “Rey Solo. You’re a fool.” He laughs again, this time joined by everyone else in the room.

Rey’s brows draw together in confusion as she tries to quell the sudden fear that grips her. “What do you mean?” the question escapes her lips before she has a chance to stop it.

“Oh, Solo…” the Hutt rocks back and forth on its throne, watching her gleefully. “How long have I waited for this moment… Many years ago, your grandfather and his apprentice protected me during the Clone Wars. Many years later, your parents murdered mine. How  _ dare _ you come here, entering my domain and demanding credits?” The Hutt smacks its lips again before it continues. “You’re nothing, Rey Solo. A bounty hunter?” He laughs heartily at that. “No. Not a bounty hunter. Just a scared little girl, afraid to go home to her disappointed parents.”

She flinches, as though hit. It’s only the comforting golden presence behind her that keeps her upright.

The Twi’lek advisor whispers something into its master’s ear, staring at Rey with such blatant hate that she almost staggers backwards.

Letting out another contemptful laugh, the Hutt stares deep into her soul, enjoying every ounce of pain it stirs up within her. “While your grandfather aided me in my time of need, your mother robbed me greatly, and your father gave mine much grief. I have no reason to honor your request for negotiation.”

That’s when the panic sets in, and Rey fumbles blindly for her blaster.

Damn it.

It’s not  _ there _ .

The Twi’lek advisor watches her with distinct satisfaction as she makes a further fool of herself, searching for her missing weapon. The Hutt crime lord continues to laugh as the rest of the room joins it.

“Your request is denied, Rey Solo,” the vile Hutt declares, looking quite pleased with itself. With a simple push of a button near his side, he watches with morbid delight as the floor gives way beneath her and her prisoner.

As Rey falls, a scream rips through her throat, and she hates herself violently for it. Her back hits the dusty ground with a resounding  _ crack _ , and she coughs raggedly, trapped and weaponless. Groaning in pain, she twists onto her side, straining to see in the dim light.

A grating, creaking noise above alerts her of the ceiling sliding back into place. The last thing she sees clearly is the Hutt’s triumphant smile, and she fights the sob that’s rising up in her throat.

This was a really,  _ really _ bad idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and oh look. Rey's a Solo.
> 
> linked backstory, perhaps? we didn't see THAT coming, did we? (lol, i'm sorry if i'm predictable.)
> 
> let me know what you think if you wannaaa. see you soon! <3
> 
> ~Elsie


	5. a thing that’s all her fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Poe have a talk while trapped in Rotta the Hutt's underground dungeon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: brief descriptions of hypothetical murder scenarios
> 
> this chapter's pretty soft, not gonna lie... a nice break before the next one, lol.

Rey _hurts_. 

Everything hurts. 

Her back screams violently in pain as she registers the fact that she’s being shaken like there’s no tomorrow.

“Damn it, Rey, wake up,” a husky tenor pleads, and she realizes that she’s no longer on the hard ground.

She’s in someone’s arms.

Her hazel eyes open briefly, sliding in and out of focus. As she tries to move, she discovers that her limbs are pretty much out of commission, feeling heavy as lead. A groan escapes her lips, and her head is pounding something awful.

“Dios, Rey,” the voice exclaims. “Stay with me, please.”

Panic seizes her, and her hazel eyes are suddenly alert, snapping up to meet Poe Dameron’s worried gaze. “…Dameron?” she manages to stutter out. Instantly, her body comes to life, flying into action as she tries to clamber away from him.

“That’s my name,” he shrugs, allowing her some space while dusting off his pants and sweat-soaked shirt. Dragging a weary arm across his forehead, he wipes the sweat from his brow with a sandy sleeve, stretching his aching limbs.

That’s when she realizes. 

The ties she used to restrain him are lying on the ground beside him, as are the pieces of cloth she used to gag him.

Bleary-eyed and exhausted, she finds herself asking, “…How…?”

Amused at her confusion, he arches a brow at her, “Yes?”

“How did you take those off?” The question tumbles out of her mouth before she has the chance to stop it. Kriff, her head hurts. She backs away from him carefully, knowing that she no longer has the upperhand without her weapons or sleep powder. 

The spice runner snorts obnoxiously, picking up the items she’s referring to along with some stray granules of sand. “Oh, these old things? You do realize I could’ve had them off a long time ago, right?” She currently can’t quite see straight, but even now, she could swear that he’s wearing that damned cocky smirk.

Shame and embarrassment wash over her afresh, and she buries her head in her hands. “Oh kriff,” she chokes. “Kriffing hell, I’m an idiot.” Her helmet lies beside her, long forgotten.

“No, no.” That warm, golden essence chases away the dark, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. The spice runner joins her on his knees, gently gripping her arms and lifting her head to look at him. “Okay, well, maybe you are a bit of an idiot,” he admits, his lips twisting up in a nervous, teasing smile. “But you’re Rey. Rey Solo. So I guess I’m a bit of an idiot too.” He releases her carefully, but not before wiping away the tears forming in her eyes with a pair of calloused thumbs.

“I shouldn’t have said my name,” she mumbles, unable to keep the bitter edge from seeping into her voice.

He huffs, standing and propping himself up against a sandstone wall. In her clearing vision, she can see him shoving his hands into his pants pockets. “I didn’t know at first in the bar,” he admits. “But I sure as hell knew when I saw that we were on the _Millennium Falcon_ and you were flying without a copilot. Only a Solo can fly that thing… well, solo.”

Her lips tug into a brief smile before she curls up into a tight ball on the ground. “Betrayed by my flying,” she groans. “My prisoner had the ability to escape all along. Who’d have thought? And here I thought I was a top notch bounty hunter. The only reason you didn’t escape was because you didn’t kriffing want to!” Her body screams in pain, and there’s something terribly wrong with her back.

He doesn’t deny her claims but concedes, “Still, you did a pretty good job of seducing me back at the bar. You’ve grown up, Rey.” He’s watching her closely; she knows that. But somehow, it doesn’t bother her as much as it did when the Hutt was doing a similar thing.

“I’d like to think so,” she screws her eyes shut as an awful stinging sensation works up her spine, “but then things like _this_ happen.” Another groan escapes her lips, and she tries to brace herself against a nearby boulder. “Force… What happened while I was out?”

Dameron barks out a shaky laugh, “Well… Do you want the good news, sorta good news, or the bad news first?”

Rey blinks. The world shifts in and out of focus. “…I guess the good news would be appreciated right about now.”

“The good news would be that some Huttese festival’s going on right now,” Dameron tells her, fidgeting with his clothing. “The sorta good news would be that, uh, well. Usually killing doesn’t take place during festivals of this nature.”

She clears her throat. “ _Usually_?”

Awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, the spice runner continues, “The bad news would be that… I think we’re scheduled for a public execution within the next day or two, as a sacrifice or something.”

“Kriff,” she curses, banging a fist against the boulder she’s leaning on. “This is all my fault. If I’d just minded my own damn business and tried to find a lesser bounty, this would’ve never happened. You’d be back with your spice running on Kijimi, doing Force only knows what, and I’d be happily aboard the _Falcon_ , running out of fuel.”

“Oh,” Dameron avoids her gaze. “You know,” he continues, running a nervous hand through his messy curls, “Apparently, I wasn’t the only one Rotta listed on that bounty database you use.”

Rey’s head snaps up to look at him then, and she winces at the pain that ruptures behind her temples. “What do you mean?”

The smuggler heaves a sigh, “Based on what I heard from above, you were listed for a higher price than I was, Rey.”

Her world crashes down before her very eyes, but she fights to maintain her composure. She won’t break down. Not now. Not never. And especially not in front of Poe Dameron. “Will they at least be giving our parents the reward credits?” she asks him sardonically.

“You’re unbelievable,” Dameron rolls his eyes at her before kneeling down beside her.

Mildly amused, she laughs a bit before gasping in pain, “I aim to please.”

Carefully, he lifts her aching body into his arms, “Listen, we don’t have much time. I’m not entirely sure what Rotta’s planning, but we can be sure it’s not gonna be pretty.” He begins to check her for broken bones, pausing when he reaches her back. “How does it hurt?” he asks when she whimpers under his light touch.

“It just hurts, you idiot. Stop touching it,” she commands, attempting to jerk her body from his grasp.

His temper flares at that. “Sheesh, princesa. If you hadn’t gotten us into this mess, then maybe I wouldn’t have to be checking to make sure you didn’t break something.” Setting her down, he folds his arms over his broad chest, huffing in annoyance. “You better hope that we can make it out of this alive, or I’ll be asking _you_ for a hundred million credits. I hear I’m a very desired man,” he adds, a bit more of his usual teasing tone coloring his voice.

She doesn’t bother responding. She knows she deserves this. She was a damned fool.

Dameron begins pacing the dusty floor, and Rey searches anywhere for an escape.

Nothing.

They’re trapped here in these four sandstone walls; there’s another one of those heavy metal doors up ahead, but it’s got a huge padlock hanging from the outside. For a moment, she considers trying to use the Force to open it before shaking her head at the stupid idea. The Force won’t cooperate with her now, not after what she’s done.

They’re both going to die. If not today, then tomorrow, and if not tomorrow, then the day after that.

They’ll be tied to spits, roasted over a grand fire in order to please a bunch of ancient Huttese gods. They’ll be thrown into the center of Rotta’s throne room, killed by Twi’lek warriors for sport. They’ll be strapped down to scarily pristine beds, torn apart slowly by medical droids.

And it’ll be all her fault.

Without thinking, she blurts out, “Poe?” He pauses in his pacing to look at her, curled up against a large boulder and fading in and out of consciousness. “Poe, I’m so sorry. I never should’ve gone to Canto Bight. I should’ve left you alone.”

In a few quick strides, the spice runner’s beside her again, unknowingly crushing the restraints she’d used on him with the heel of his boots. “Shh, Rey,” he whispers. “Don’t worry about it, Sunshine. Our parents somehow always found themselves in far worse situations than this one. We’ll make it out of here okay.”

The tears slowly begin to form in her eyes, and she dashes them away furiously. “I don’t want to die here, Poe,” she admits, not even realizing her use of his first name. “We can’t die here. Not because of me.”

“I know,” Poe replies, his eyes softening considerably. She’s surprised but doesn’t protest when he lifts her into his arms again, cradling her close to his muscled chest. “All we can do for now is focus on getting you well. I know I sure as hell won’t be able to hold them off without you. So heal up, Sunshine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiii, wow, my momentum has SLOWED. school's been insane, and the semester's only just started.
> 
> i have one more chapter in reserve, but i have a break coming up next week. hopefully i'll be able to do some writing then!
> 
> also our favorite hotshot is finally out of the cuffs... turns out he's known how to get out of them all along, lol.
> 
> let me know what you think if you wanna :,)))
> 
> ~Elsie


	6. a sudden awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About a day or two has gone by, and Rey and Poe are to be sacrificed in a Huttese ceremony. In a moment of desperation, Rey reconnects with her past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: violence (this is a very action-y chapter so i wouldn't recommend reading if you're squeamish or disturbed by things of that nature).
> 
> still... this chapter's kinda cool. we have some pivotal moments here!! i've always struggled writing action so hopefully i did this justice.
> 
> ~Elsie

The bright light comes as a nuisance to Rey. It shines directly on her face, penetrating her closed eyelids and burning her skin to an uncomfortable crisp. Moving her body comes with a great exertion of effort, and she’s aware of the thin sheen of sweat covering her skin. Her helmet is nowhere to be found.

A loud gong is rung, the vibrations shaking her to her very core. Her hazel eyes fly open, seeking out the one familiar thing she knows: a golden presence in the Force, thrumming close by. With the little bit of strength she has left, she reaches out to it with her own weakened Force essence. She clings to it, like a drowning woman stranded without a ship, reveling in the way it lights her body with warmth.

Suddenly, she’s aware that she’s been shaken again, a voice pleading with her to wake up. “Kriff, Rey, you gotta get up,” Dameron demands, pulling her to her feet in the gentlest way he can afford.

At the tone of his voice, Rey’s instantly on the alert, eyes shooting open and arms reaching out to steady herself. Pain tears up her spine, and she fights the cry that’s rising up in her throat. “What the hell is going on, Dameron?” she snaps at him, still struggling to see in this unbearable light.

The gong resounds again, and she presses her fingers to her temples feebly, trying with all her might to block out that blasted noise. Maintaining the weak connection she has to Poe in the Force, she’s able to draw on a little of his strength, begging her broken body to restore itself.

“You’ve been knocked out for at least a day now, Solo,” Dameron responds, “but now’s not the time for any of your nonsense.”

“Nonsense?” Rey manages to sputter back, vaguely aware of how the rumbling beneath her feet is growing louder with each passing moment.

Dameron grips her by her shoulders, meeting her gaze wildly, “We’re about to be torn apart by damned Twi’lek warriors as kriffing sacrifices, Rey.” When he sees that his words haven’t quite sunk in for her yet, he continues in a jumbled rush, “Kriffing Rotta’s about to sic a bunch of Twi’leks on us, and you’re pretty much out of commission, and I’ve barely regained any feeling in my limbs after being tied up for so long.”

When that still doesn’t compute, the spice runner almost tears his hair out in stress, “Kriffing hell… We’re about to  _ die _ , Rey. We’re about to kriffing die.”

The sight of Dameron’s frenzied expression and the fresh cuts that now litter his body jolts Rey to life. She sees that they’re out in the middle of kriffing nowhere, boxed into some kind of arena of Rotta’s making. A large crowd has gathered in the stands, cheering wildly and watching them like they’re some kind of animals.

Then, her eyes are drawn to where Rotta the Hutt is, sitting high in one of the top viewing boxes. The Twi’lek dancer is nowhere to be seen, and she finds a grim satisfaction from that. She supposes he learned his lesson from what Leia did to Jabba while chained to him.

Clanging one last time, the gong is soon replaced by thudding ritual drums, and she feels her face scrunch up in discomfort. Barely able to stand up straight, she’s grateful when Poe reaches a hand out, stabilizing her in her dizzy state.

She fears they must look a sight. Dameron with his ragged clothing, and Rey with her torn bindings. Both are dehydrated and faint. The spice runner’s all covered in cuts and bruises, and the bounty hunter’s body is irregularly curved at the waist.

A chilling peace falls over her as she hears the shouts of those eager for their deaths. As the Twi’lek warriors stalk into the arena, she grips Poe’s hand firmly and closes her eyes, breathing in as deeply as she can with her many injuries. Distantly, she thinks she registers Twi’lek battle cries, but she’s not afraid.

She can feel Poe’s body stiffen beside her, and she squeezes his hand in what she hopes is a reassuring gesture. She got him into this mess, and she plans on getting him out of it.

“Rey, what in the kriffing galaxy do you think-” Poe’s voice drifts faintly to her ear.

Stilling herself, she opens herself to the Force for the first time in years. It flows through her, coursing through her very veins. She feels the broken pieces of her body shifting slowly back into place as she strokes Poe’s palm with her thumb.

She draws from the surging crowd around her, feeding off their chaotic energy and desire to see them both dead. She draws from the Twi’lek warriors, rushing toward them with frightening weapons. She draws from the twin suns above, resting comfortably together high in the sky. She draws from the very sand that swirls around her feet.

But most importantly, she draws from the golden luminance beside her.

Even though she’s felt the Force all around her for the past few years, she hasn’t opened herself to it in so long. She’s suddenly delirious with joy.

Her eyes fly open, and she passes Poe a confident smile, “Don’t worry.”

They both leap into action, the Twi’lek warriors coming forth with a crushing sort of ferocity.

From his safe little perch, Rotta the Hutt begins to laugh, shouting in his vulgar Huttese, “And now, Solo. Dameron. For the sake of my dead father, Jabba the Hutt, and for the sake of all of the gods above… I will have my revenge, and you will both  _ die _ .”

At his bold proclamation, the crowd goes wild, screaming curses and threats into the sandy arena.

From her peripherals, she can see that Poe’s untamed in all his raw strength, matching the skill of the Twi’leks seeking to kill them. “Rey, whatever you did, I feel better than I have in weeks,” the spice runner declares. To her genuine surprise, there are no cuts or gashes dragging down his skin, and he manages to land a kick at one of the Twi’lek, stealing its spear while it’s down.

“We may not die after all, Dameron,” Rey ducks beneath a swinging fist, unable to keep the triumphant edge out of her voice.

Wielding his newly gained spear, Poe is quick on his feet, despite not having much experience with such a weapon. She knows he’s more comfortable with long range blasters but can appreciate his effort, dodging and inflicting attacks of his own.

Focusing herself, she feels the power of the Force coursing through her freely as her body carries her through different movements. A Twi’lek with shockingly blue skin bares its teeth at her, hauling its body through the air in an attempt to knock her off her feet with its spear. Tucking her knees up to her chin and rolling on the dusty ground, she manages to miss its poorly calculated attack.

Within seconds, Rey’s back on her feet, light on her toes as she tries to decide how difficult it would be to steal some kind of weapon. She’s painfully aware of the array of weapons the Twi’lek has at its disposal, noticing the belt of knives it wears on its hips.

Leaping out of its way yet again, Rey decides to test her luck, drawing from beneath her. The sand and dust under her feet begin to swirl all around her, but she doesn’t stop as she buys more time and kicks the Twi’lek in the shins, guiding the elements of the earth to form a spiraling cloud of the irritating stuff.

With a simple flick of the wrist, she sends the irksome particles flying, all directed at the Twi’lek tormenting her. It’s momentarily blinded, and she takes advantage of the opportunity, reaching out and ripping the belt right off its vulnerable form. Not wasting any time, she takes possession of two of the blades before throwing the belt far away.

Now armed, Rey feels far more confident, gripping the knives tightly. The first Twi’lek hisses at her in anger, joined by two of its friends. One holds a spear, the other a slim axe, and the last a barbed whip.

There’ve been many times when Rey’s been grateful for her light weight and slim form, and now is one of them. She has no chance in outrunning or overpowering the Twi’lek, but she can definitely wear them down by giving them one hell of a fight.

Deciding that she doesn’t like the fact that all three are in possession of a long range weapon, Rey takes a chance, begging the Force silently to assist her. Allowing her eyes to close shut, she unfurls her body, throwing one of her knives and watching as it embeds itself in the blue Twi’lek’s forehead.

The warrior’s eyes fly open with shock as it registers the pain, dropping to its knees. The blood’s flowing quickly now, staining the creature’s robes and sliding down its injured face. The spear drops from its slack grip, and Rey watches as the creature slumps over, drenched in its own blood. Not wasting another second, she leaps forward to retrieve the spear, already aware of the axe being thrown at her back.

Tucking into herself compactly, she allows the momentum to carry her forward, the axe whizzing past her and landing in the ground ahead of her. Her arm shoots out to grab it just as she sees Poe struggling to fend off a group of four warriors with only his spear.

“Dameron!” the scream rips through her throat as she releases the axe, allowing it to whirl through the blistering air toward the group surrounding Poe. “Watch out!”

Not a moment later, a loud shriek confirms yet another kill.

As she attempts to help Poe, she winds up being distracted, something one of the other crafty Twi’lek takes advantage of.

She’s entirely unprepared for the kick that’s sent to her stomach. Her body is sent careening, and she lands on the hard ground, her freshly healed back jolting with pain. Coughing up an odd mixture of dust and blood, she grits her teeth, willing herself to get up.

In a couple of quick strides, the Twi’lek she stole the axe from has caught up to her, leering down at her before landing another kick to her bruising midriff. Before it has the chance to do it again, Rey rolls out of the way, causing it to lose its balance and join her on the ground.

Its partner has arrived now, still brandishing its leather whip, decorated with pieces of bone and shards of metal.

Mild panic setting in, Rey allows her spear to sink into the Twi’lek beside her before scrambling to get back on her feet. The last remaining warrior roars with anger, the crowd in a frenzy all around them.

With the adrenaline rushing through her veins and pounding in her ears, Rey forgot that this is on display for all the elite of Tatooine. A choking sob rises up in her throat, and she narrowly dodges the whip that’s lashed out at her.

In the oppressive heat, a sudden wave of exhaustion threatens to overcome her, but she pushes through it stubbornly, whirling out of the way of the braided leather each time it comes crashing down. Still, her reaction time isn’t as sharp as it was an hour ago, and her limbs increasingly feel heavy as lead.

At one point, she misses a step, stumbling forward as the whip drags across her back. A scream of agony escapes her as the thin fabric of her clothing tears. For the first time today, tiny droplets prickle in her eyes before slipping down her ruddy cheeks, and her knees are bloodied as she sprawls out on the ground.

Unable to fight the cracking of the whip, Rey’s chest heaves with each breath, and when she brings a hand to her lips, it comes back stained red.

She can barely hear over the jeering in the stands, but she’s distinctly aware of Rotta’s satisfied laugh. “And now, Rey Solo. You will die,” he commands, signaling to the warrior standing above her.

Given the go ahead, the Twi’lek picks up its pace, bringing the whip down again and again. The sharp pieces braided into the leather dig into the soft skin of her back, drawing both blood and flesh.

“Oh, kriff,” she sobs. Her eyes grow heavy as she tries desperately to keep them open, and her head is throbbing. Reaching out into the Force, she can feel her own essence shrink as she draws further into herself, distancing herself from the pain. Right now, death feels like a very welcome option, and Rey allows herself to be lulled away, barely aware of the golden thread of life lending her its strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you skipped due to trigger warning, know that Rey's opened herself up to the Force in order to save herself and Poe from the Twi'lek warriors sent to kill them. She's greatly injured and blacks out, but Poe's Force energy gives her strength.
> 
> i really liked this chapter... i have two more chapters prewritten, but i may wait to post the next one until the middle of the week. thanks for reading!
> 
> ~Els


	7. an unwelcome intruder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Poe try to recover from their encounter with the Hutts on Tatooine. They meet someone they weren't expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: references to pain/death/violence.
> 
> now we're sort of referencing the canon timeline; i haven't totally decided how closely i'm going to follow it, but this is how it'll be for the meantime :)))

Vaguely aware of her surroundings, Rey tries to blink the exhaustion from her eyes, startling awake. “Poe?” she calls out feebly, her voice hoarse and scratchy.

“Sunshine?”

There’s an abrupt clattering, the sound of someone getting up from a chair and allowing it to crash against the durasteel floor.

As she tries to breathe, there’s a deep pain set in her chest, an uncomfortable pressure that doesn’t seem like it’ll be going away anytime soon.

He appears by her side in seconds, kneeling next to her and watching her anxiously. “Rey?” he questions, idly brushing a wisp of hair out of her face.

“Hurts,” she breathes, curling up on her side. As an afterthought she adds, “…Sorry.”

He snorts at this, and she’d elbow him if she weren’t unable to move. “Yeah, me too, princesa. That was quite the stunt we pulled back there on Tatooine.” Seeing her struggle to sit up, he assists her. “Be careful. The _Falcon_ ’s on autopilot right now, and Beebee’s keeping an eye on things up in the cockpit, but… I don’t know. We barely escaped with our lives.”

Rey waits silently as he helps tuck her blankets more firmly around her. A shudder slips through her as his hand accidentally brushes hers, and she tries to jerk herself away. She’s covered in bacta patches and bandages, but everything still hurts, and she feels terribly cold. She clutches at the sheets tightly, until her knuckles turn almost white.

“Dios, Rey. You almost died,” Poe says finally, his voice coming out in a broken whisper. “When I saw you collapsed on the ground, I rushed in as quickly as I could. Finished things off. Rotta was furious.” Absent-mindedly, he picks at the frayed edges of her blanket before continuing, “When we didn’t come back to the ship for a few days, my little buddy figured that something might be wrong. Beebee followed us and brought a few of my more… choice weapons. I may be a spice runner, but we always come prepared as hell.”

Her lips twisting into a frown, Rey waits for further explanation.

With a troubled sigh, Poe answers her silent question, “Charges. I threw charges into a few of the stands and at Rotta’s viewing box. Blew up a hole in the wall so that I could drag us out of there and bring you back to the ship.” Nervously rubbing the back of his neck, he avoids her gaze. “I’m sorry your deal fell through, Rey.”

At this, Rey shakes her weary head, “No, Dameron.”

His dark eyes look up uncertainly at her vacant hazel ones.

“You saved my kriffing life,” she forces out, ignoring the burning sensation that errupts in her chest. “You saved me after I was so horrible to you.” She wrings her hands anxiously.

Tentatively, Poe rests a calloused hand on her own. “You were doing what you had to do to survive. Trust me. I know.”

An unspoken question settles in the air between them, and Rey opens her mouth to speak again.

Poe shushes her gently, lips turning up into a sad, understanding smile. “Yeah, I became a spice runner. It wasn’t the best of choices, but it was the only one that I had, really. I know I disappointed Papá when I left, but I had to go.” Without really thinking, he begins to trace circles in the soft skin of her palm. “We were going to lose the farm.”

Rey’s heart stills in her chest, and guilt seizes her heart.

“I couldn’t let that happen,” Poe continues, growing increasingly more choked as he goes on. “After Mamá… After Mamá passed, the farm was all Papá had left. He needs the forest and the koyo fields and the Force tree Mamá planted. I wouldn’t let anyone take that from him. Attending the Academy to become a pilot just… wasn’t a possibility for me.”

Her breath catching at the back of her throat, Rey chooses to close her eyes, focusing on the sound of Poe’s soft tenor… on the way the pad of his thumb is tracing patterns on her skin… on the feel of his golden presence, engulfing her in its warmth and chasing the darkness away.

Clearing his throat uncertainly, Poe ends simply. “So I became a spice runner, and you turned to bounty hunting. What would our parents say if they were to see us now?”

Shaking her head slightly, Rey feels his energy taint with anxiety and disappointment. “I can’t even imagine. I haven’t been back in years now.”

“I get it,” Poe nods in understanding. Rey feels herself warming to a sense of shared kinship. Just then, the ship rocks with an alarmingly sudden jolt, and he falls backward, landing uncomfortably on the floor and hitting his head against Rey’s nightstand. “Beebee-Ate? Buddy? What’s going on in there?” He clambers to his feet awkwardly, gripping the small table to brace himself as the ship continues to sway. “Hold on; I’ll be back in a few, Sunshine,” he promises before rushing to the cockpit.

Rey’s head is spinning as she grips the sturdy metal railings she has on either side of her bed. Her stomach is churning along with the ship, and she fights to keep down what little food she has left in her. The few knick knacks she has set on her nightstand have since clattered to the floor, and her mirror is barely hanging onto its place on the wall, tilted at an angle.

Examining one of the carefully placed bacta patches on her arms, Rey decides that, despite lack of materials, Poe did a decent job of stitching her up. Once she’s able to get up on her own, she’ll find the rest of her med supplies and make sure that he receives treatment for the wounds he’s obviously sustained as well.

All of a sudden, the ship’s rocking comes to an abrupt halt. Poe calls down from the cockpit, “Rey, brace yourself - I’m preparing for a jump to lightspeed.”

“You don’t have a copilot!” Rey protests as loudly as she can, voice still hoarse and scratchy in her throat. BB-8 lets out a shrill whistle in protest, and she retracts her statement immediately. She thinks she’d be amused at the little droid if her ship weren’t practically barrel-rolling through space.

Her grasp on the bars only grows tighter, and her face pales with anxiety.

“Don’t worry about it, princesa!” Poe yells back. “Beebee and I have got it all under control!” With that, the _Falcon_ hits lightspeed, launching into hyperspace.

Everything is shaking, and Rey squeezes her eyes shut tight, ignoring the intense throbbing in her temples. She feels nauseous.

Her nightstand is vibrating beside her, and something drops off it and onto the floor beside her bunk.

A portion pack.

Even though her whole body is pulsating, she still manages to swing an arm over the side of her railing to reach down and scoop up the packet. Greedily, she rips open the packaging and tears into the ration of veg-meat and dehydrated bread. Tucking pieces of the rubbery green stuff into the pockets of her cheeks, she tries not to focus on the way her stomach’s gurgling unhappily as she shoves the bread back onto her nightstand. There’s no way she can rehydrate it right now, and she can’t guarantee that she won’t retch it all back up anyways with the way things are looking now.

“Damn it, Poe, fly this kriffing ship to wherever we’re going and hurry the hell up!” Rey manages to exclaim, her voice regaining much of its natural texture after she swallows her bite of veg-meat. She doesn’t like the way the ship still hasn’t regained its balance, especially since Poe’s up in the cockpit and she’s confined to her bunk.

She hears the sound of something metal clanging to the floor before Poe lets out a grunt of annoyance. “I’m doing my best up here, princesa. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again - The _Falcon_ ’s a pretty damn hard ship to fly solo.”

Lurching forward with a sudden rocking of the ship, Rey calls back, “Well, good thing you’re one hell of a pilot! Speed this up, Dameron, or I’ll go up there and do it myself.”

To the relief of both Rey and her unsettled stomach, the _Millenium Falcon_ shortly emerges from hyperspace, cruising through open space. Rey doesn’t have any windows in her quarters so she can’t make out their location from her bunk, but now that the ship’s relatively stable, she decides that she can make an attempt toward getting out of bed.

Bracing herself against the metal railings, she heaves herself up and out of her bunk, clinging closely to the wall. Her legs wobble slightly with each step, threatening to give out from beneath her, and her gaze is set dizzyingly toward the door. As she’s gaining her bearings, she’s vaguely aware of the loose bacta patch as it falls from her knee to the floor.

The pressure in her chest has lessened slightly, enough for her to function, but the breath in her lungs still wheezes through her uncomfortably.

As though moving through a tub of jelly, Rey crashes out the door and down the hall, stumbling into the copilot’s chair up in the cockpit.

Startled, Poe adjusts the throttle while watching her worriedly. “Hang in there, princesa. We may have some company.”

“What do you mean we have company?!” Rey questions him, stress rising in her throat. She joins him worriedly at the control panel as the lights suddenly dim. They frantically punch in different commands but receive no response from the old ship. “Someone’s latched onto us. All controls are overridden.”

Poe leaps from his seat, straining to see through the front window. Through the glass he can see the larger ship, preparing to swallow them whole. He doesn’t waste another second, grabbing hold of her arm and dragging her along behind him. “Come on.” They rush through the corridor, and Poe throws open a hatch, crawling down the rickety ladder and helping her down after. Once they’re both secured, Poe lifts his droid down too.

Flying into action, Rey finds a pair of oxygen masks that she throws over both their faces. “When I first got on board this ship, I had some trouble with poisonous gas. I fixed it a while back, but I’m going to try to un-fix it now.” She gets to work immediately, messing with different latches and controls. 

BB-8 rolls over to her side. _[I’m here to be of assistance if needed, Friend-Rey!]_

Scrambling back up the ladder, Poe lifts the hatch hurriedly, peeking over at the door. “Hurry!” he calls down.

“I’m hurrying!” She’s desperately attempting to pry open a locked hatch with one of her screwdrivers, BB-8 doing its best to help her as each tense second drags by.

Someone’s onboard now, and Rey’s heart rate quickens. She can’t be sure just yet, but she picks up on two Force signatures she hasn’t felt in quite some time.

Heavy boots thud overhead as the two people begin inspecting the ship; Poe kneels down beside her, lifting one of the metal panels as she strips out a few of the wires hidden behind it. She fumbles through her toolbox for one of her wrenches before accidentally dropping it. It clatters to the durasteel floor loudly, and BB-8 watches them worriedly with its wide-eyed lens. 

The hatch above them is lifted up, revealing a Wookie and a man. A blaster is unceremoniously shoved in their faces.

“Where are the others?” the man questions immediately, eyes locking onto Poe. His face shifts in recognition. “Dameron?”

“Solo,” the scruffy spice runner breaks into a wide grin. Tugging off his oxygen mask, he then looks to Rey with concern.

Yanking her mask down just as Poe does, Rey blanches. “Papa?”

As soon as the word leaves her mouth, Han’s attention is drawn to her. “Rey?” His eyes immediately soften once they land on her.

Chewie moves to pull Rey up out of the compartment, crushing her in a tight Wookie hug. Resisting the affection, Rey feels her face twist into a scowl. The longer she stays in Chewie’s warm embrace, however, she feels her cold exterior melting despite her best efforts toward keeping it.

Hoisting BB-8 up after her, Poe climbs back up the ladder, hands on his hips as he watches father and daughter reunite. Rey eyes her father with an icy disinterest, and Han looks sheepish, blaster returned to his holster and hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

Poe clears his throat awkwardly, crouching down near BB-8.

“Where’d you get this ship?” Han finally asks gruffly.

Temper flaring, Rey snaps back, “Niima Outpost.”

Recognition lights in Han’s eyes, “Jakku? You went back to that junkyard? Rey…” He almost moves to embrace her but thinks better of it, wary of her harsh glare. Chewie lets out a loud groan, and Han crosses his arms over his chest. “Told you we should’ve checked the Western Reaches. Who had it? Ducain?”

“I stole it,” Rey cuts in quickly. “From Unkar Plutt. Who stole it from the Irving Boys, who stole it from Ducain -”

“Who stole it from _me_ ,” Han finishes pointedly. “Figures that you’d find it. This ship’s always been your birthright. Your brother’s too. Lucky for me, though, your old man’s still alive and kicking. The _Falcon_ ’ll remain in the possession of a Solo yet.” He moves to the cockpit, leaving Poe and Rey stunned in the corridor.

Snapping out of her reverie, Rey storms after him. “The _Falcon_ ’s already in the possession of a Solo. I won’t have you intruding on my life.” She stops just short of the cockpit, pausing when she sees her father leaning up against the pilot’s seat, a fond look growing on his face.

“You’ve done a good job on the ship, Rey, I have to admit,” is all Han says, noting the pair of dice hanging just above him.

Rey’s heart blossoms at the unexpected compliment, and a smile creeps its way onto her face. “Thanks,” she replies shortly.

“What’re you two doing out here anyways?” Han asks, glancing back toward where Poe’s watching them from the hall. A suspicious look crosses his face as he looks back and forth between them.

Rolling her eyes, Rey moves to collect her holopad off the dashboard, “I was supposed to collect some bounty money off him from Rotta the Hutt. A shady spice runner like him is worth a fairly hefty sum, but Rotta and I didn’t quite see eye to eye when it came time for payment.”

Han watches his daughter carefully, “So you’re into the bounty hunting scene now?”

Offering him a curt nod, Rey squints at the new listings appearing on her screen. “Kriff,” she mutters.

“What happened?” Han questions bluntly. At the same time, the _Falcon_ rocks, along with Han and Chewie’s current freighter, the _Eravana_. Han’s body stiffens at the sudden motion, a cool annoyance coloring his features. “Don’t tell me a rathtar’s gotten loose…” He breaks into a run, and Poe’s only a few steps behind.

“A what?!” Poe calls back. Clutching her holopad to her person, Rey follows after them, heart pounding loudly in her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAN IS HEREEEE! SO IS CHEWIE <3
> 
> holy cow, this would've been out earlier, lol, but i wrote and then rewrote chapters 7-9 so that really threw me off. i'm behind what i wanted to be on because of the rewrite, but this'll flow better with the canon timeline. unfortunately, lol, i now only have one more chap prewritten...
> 
> hopefully i'm able to write one or two more before my break's up :(((
> 
> ~Elsie


	8. a timely escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Poe discover that Han is hauling rathtars on his ship. They run into some trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: some violence (not very graphic).
> 
> eee. i'm going to chicago this weekend, but i wanted to get at least one more chap out before then. i have one more chapter in reserve, lol.

“You never were known for your bright ideas, Papa, but this has got to be one of the worst,” Rey yells.

They’re off the _Falcon_ now, onboard the _Eravana_. Han’s busy checking the security cameras at one of his many control panels, Chewie watching from behind.

“Please don’t tell me you’re hauling _rathtars_ on this freighter,” Poe mutters.

“I’m hauling rathtars,” Han replies back absentmindedly. “Don’t tell me you’ve only been sticking to spice all these years, Dameron. The rathtar business is very profitable,” he adds dryly. 

Poe’s got all eyes on his droid, patting its head reassuringly. He still manages to grit out, “So I hear.”

As he refreshes all the monitors, Han lets out another groan of annoyance. “Oh great. It’s the Guavian Death Gang. Must’ve tracked us down from Nantoon.” He takes off, striding down further into the ship.

Rey and Poe follow him, BB-8 on their heels and Chewie bringing up the rear. “What about BB-8?” Poe questions quickly, incredibly protective of his droid.

“He’ll stay with me,” Han replies decidedly. “I’ll get rid of the gang, and then you two can be on your merry way with all your smuggling and bounty hunting.”

“What about the rathtars?” Rey interjects. “Where are you keeping them?”

Before Han has the chance to respond, something slams loudly against the door beside her, the sound echoing down the corridor. A shriek escapes her lips before she can stop herself, and Poe looks similarly startled. BB-8 wedges itself between their legs and lets out a tiny squeal.

“There’s one,” Han points out flatly.

Rey has a funny feeling in her gut, especially when she gets an updated alert on her holopad for both an orange BB unit and its scruffy looking owner. “What’ll you do?” she asks her father instead, heart nearly stopping in her chest when she sees how many credits are being offered for _her_ capture.

“Same thing I always do,” Han replies. “Talk my way out of it.” When Chewie protests, he points a finger at the Wookie. “Yes, I do! Everytime.”

Once Rey and Poe are secured below the ship’s main corridors, Han and Chewie go back to where they know the Gang will intercept them. Poe looks incredibly distraught at the temporary loss of his droid, but he allows Han to take it, albeit reluctantly.

Crawling beneath the floor panels, Rey strains to hear the bargaining taking place above. She listens as her father pulls a typical Han and tries to convince the Guavian Death Gang that he’ll pay back the fifty thousand credits he borrowed from them. When that doesn’t work and men from Kanjiklub appear as well, Rey starts to worry.

She doesn’t even bother wondering why her father would be stupid enough to indebt himself to two of the deadliest crime organizations in the galaxy.

When the Guavian negotiator that Rey now recognizes as Bala-Tik mentions BB-8, however, Poe almost flies off the handle. His eyes are startled and frenzied as they continue to listen, Poe itching to fly into action.

The Guavians and Kanjiklub have both obviously seen the listings Rey pulled up on holopad before. She eyes it now guiltily before Poe snatches it from her hands.

“A bounty on me and Beebee?” he asks, voice cracking with betrayal. “Damn it, you should’ve told us, Rey! Now they’re going to take my droid!”

Rey shushes him quickly as Bala-Tik sneers out, “The First Order is paying highly for this droid - and for the scum pilot who owns it.” Rey furrows her brows in confusion but doesn’t think much of it until… 

The Kanjiklub leader fires back, “Search the freighter!”

Scrambling through the tight passage, Rey hits a series of switches, watching as they all turn red. A moment passes before anything happens.

Then loud shrieks are heard, reverberating down the corridors. Rey freezes, hearing her father overhead say, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this…”

Poe looks over at her in confusion, letting the holopad hit the floor.

Her eyes wide, Rey gulps. “Wrong fuses.”

“Kill them!” Bala-Tik yells, “And take the droid!”

Blasters are being trained on her father and Chewie, prepared to fire. From the slits in the floor’s metal panelling, Poe strains to see whether or not his droid is still okay.

Not a moment too soon, two rathtars come barrelling down opposite ends of the hall, picking up, flinging, and eating their various assailants.

Poe works at prying the hatch above them open, hoisting Rey out and following her afterward. Together, they fly down the passageway, searching for Han, Chewie, and BB. “If we run into a damn rathtar after those Twi’lek on Tatooine…” Poe manages to gasp out. “I think I’m gonna have to deem your family too dangerous to be around.”

“You don’t know the half,” Rey mutters back, fumbling for her blaster. It isn’t there. Kriff. She forgot that she lost most of her functioning weapons on Tatooine.

They run into a Guavian, but he’s too busy trying to escape a rathtar’s squirmy embrace to notice them. As he barrels past them, they spin on their heels too. But Rey isn’t quick enough.

A well-aimed tentacle wraps around her waist, and she’s lifted into the air, a yell tearing through her throat. Stopping in his tracks immediately, Poe watches with terrified eyes as she’s carried away by the slimy creature.

“Dameron, get me the hell _down_!” Rey can’t help but scream. The rathtar brings her dangerously closer and closer to its opened mouth, all while letting her bump into the different walls it passes. She loses sight of Poe and fights the panic rising up inside her. If worst comes to worst, she knows she can handle herself.

Several scary moments later, one of the sliding door panels comes crashing down on a few of the rathtar’s tentacles, including the ones holding hostage of her.

“Rey?” comes Poe’s call, echoing down the deserted hall.

Relieved, she wiggles out of the writhing appendages, twisting her body in an attempt to see her unlikely savior. “Dameron?”

Crouching beside her, Poe helps her up, giving her a tired smile, “You alright there, Sunshine?”

“Let’s get out of here,” Rey barely manages to breathe out. Her hand in his, they tear down the hallway, joining Han and Chewie in the hangar.

As they run to the _Falcon_ , Rey notices that Chewie’s hurt, clutching his side and groaning in pain. Han doesn’t waste any time in shouting orders, “Rey, get up here with me and close the door behind; Dameron, help Chewie.”

BB-8 follows Han onto the ship, and Poe helps Chewie onto the same couch he once occupied after being captured by Rey. As blasters shoot at them, Rey wastes no further time in closing the door to the _Falcon_ , rushing to join her father in preparing for takeoff.

Chewie’s distressed yells only add to the frenzied, panicked atmosphere that’s now enveloping them. Poe’s trying to navigate helping the wounded Wookie with the few bacta patches they have left after their encounter with the Hutts on Tatooine.

“Watch the thrust; we’re going out of here at lightspeed,” Han commands from his seat, managing the controls under pressure with a practiced ease.

Rey’s brows draw together, and even though she already knows the answer, she asks anyways. “From inside the hangar? Is that even possible?”

“I never ask that question until after I’ve done it,” Han shoots back.

They’re both startled when a rathtar leeches onto the front window, beginning its attempt at eating the ship.

“This is _not_ how I thought this day was gonna go,” Han mutters, mostly to himself. “Angle the shield!” he adds. Rey knows from experience that he’s performing some rapid calculations in his head. “Hang on back there!”

“You got it!” Poe calls back, sounding way less harried than Rey currently feels.

As Rey makes sure that there’s minimal stress on the hyperdrive, Han pulls down the lever, launching the _Falcon_ into lightspeed.

Father and daughter collapse further into their seats with identical yells of excitement, proud of having overcome the impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a kinda actiony/filler sort of chapter. but i think it was pretty necessary. Poe's saved Rey yet again, lol, so i think they're growing to trust each other a little more.
> 
> now things are sorta flesh with the canon timeline? i'm not sure how closely i'm gonna fall it/the dialogue, but we'll see!
> 
> let me know what you think?
> 
> ~Elsie


	9. a little bit of truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter :/// everything's been so wild with school and the possibility of online instruction bc of corona.
> 
> i only have one more prewritten chapter in reserve uh oh ;-;

After Han puts the  _ Falcon _ into autopilot, he and Rey enter the main hold, purposefully avoiding further conversation. Han immediately goes to check on his partner, Chewbacca, ducking under the Wookie’s flailing arms. Poe’s struggling to place the last remaining bacta patches on Chewie’s wounds, BB-8 his ever constant companion beside him.

Rey sinks into one of the hold’s couches, stretching her tired muscles and leaning back against the cushions.

After Han’s finished helping Poe with Chewbacca, he squints suspiciously at the spice runner and his droid. “So, Dameron. What’s with the First Order listing?”

Mildly taken aback, Poe furrows his brows in confusion. “What First Order listing?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Han shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Trust me, kid. If there’s anyone in the galaxy who can understand being on the run, it’s me.” He drums his fingers lightly on the holochess table, leaning forward to make eye contact with Dameron.

Eyes flicking to look at Rey, Poe hesitates for a moment before he sighs. “I guess it was bound to happen eventually…” After he takes a quick breath in, Poe’s Force thread becomes frayed and thin with anxiety. “I’m not a spice runner of Kijimi,” he admits slowly. “I’m actually a pilot… from the Resistance.”

Instantly, both Rey and Han recoil, as though injured by his words. Chewie raises a furry fist up from his nearby berth with a concerned growl.

“I’ve been working for Leia since I was twenty-two,” Poe continues, laying a weary hand on BB-8’s metal head. The droid looks between both Poe and Rey, rocking back and forth nervously. “Never made it to the New Republic’s forces like I wanted to so I’ve been with the Resistance from the very beginning. I took on an undercover operation for Leia when I was younger with the spice runners, and that’s been my station ever since.

“I smuggle for a good cause. It’s for the intel, not for the money. Learned to fly from my mom before she died, and I practiced more and more as the jobs and offerings got bigger and bigger. More often than not, I ended up being one of the network’s main getaway pilots. May not be your typical flight school, but flying expensive shipments through asteroid fields is as good a learning experience as any.”

Poe’s truth falls on Rey’s ears painfully. With every word he says, she feels more and more betrayed. She thought they were alike. She thought that they were scoundrels. She thought that they’d both disappointed their parents. She thought that they had something in  _ common _ .

Instead, she’s finding out that Poe isn’t at all who he said he was.

“So all that about Kes and the farm?” Rey finds herself cutting in. “All that was a lie?”

Warily, Poe’s gaze falls on her, his brown eyes softening as he regards her carefully. “No. It wasn’t all a lie. I wanted to make sure Papá could afford to keep the farm and protect the Force Tree. I just… Spice running is only a coverup for what I really do. It’s for the good of the galaxy.”

Han tries to reattach one of Chewie’s bacta patches that’s come loose, only to be met with loud groans of protest. “So what’d you do to piss off the First Order, Dameron? You may be working for the Resistance as a special op, but that doesn’t explain why the other side’s got you and the droid listed so high.”

“I’ve got a map,” is all Poe decides to say. BB-8 nuzzles his hand gently, and Poe wraps his arms tightly around the round droid.

Rey scoffs. “I doubt you have a map that Kylo Ren wants that badly. Either way, I’ll drop you off at the next inhabited planet. There are jobs I need to take, and I can’t do that with you or Beebee onboard.”

Clearing his throat, Han shoots a glance at his daughter from his spot on the opposite end of the hold. “You don’t really think I’m letting you get away with the  _ Falcon _ do you, Rey?”

Blinking, Rey feels her heart jolt uncomfortably in her chest. “Papa, it’s mine now. I stole it from Niima Outpost fair and square years ago. It’s my home.”

“If the First Order’s got a bounty on Poe and the ball over there, then I doubt that you’re not included in that too. The Guavian Death Gang and Kanjiklub both saw you escape on the  _ Falcon _ , and they’ll assume that you’re compatriots,” Han says, his blunt honesty wreaking havoc against Rey’s shaken confidence. He picks up one of her spare holopads from a shelf nearby, booting the device up. “I guarantee you that you’re a wanted woman now if you weren’t one already.” At Rey’s uncertainty, he hands her the holopad. “See for yourself.”

Scrolling through the list, Rey almost scoffs at her father’s words. “I’m not, Papa. I’m nowhere on…” Her words end up being swallowed at the back of her throat. Not only is Rey Solo wanted by Rotta the Hutt, but she is also wanted by the infamous Kylo Ren, trusted apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke. “There’s no way,” she chokes out. She’s perfectly capable of handling a Hutt or two… But the First Order?

Moments later, Poe’s by her side, peering at the screen from over her shoulder. “Wow… You’re almost worth as much as me.” His joke falls flat, however, as Rey’s whole world drops out from beneath her.

“If Chewie and I were able to locate the  _ Falcon _ so easily on our scanners, then there’s no doubt that the First Order will be able to find us soon too,” Han says grimly. “I suggest that you both find yourselves a new ship.”

Poe’s eyes are still glued to the screen. “I just need to get Beebee-Ate back to the Resistance.”

Glancing up at him, Rey demands to know, “Why?”

“I have a map,” is all he says again. At her quick huff of frustration, he relents, clarifying, “I have a map to Luke Skywalker.”

“You have a map to Luke?” Han asks, his tone growing startling grave. He pauses for a moment, studying Poe’s face closely. “Do you… do you think you could show it to me?”

Poe hesitates for a moment before giving BB-8 the go-ahead. “This is top secret stuff, but… You  _ are _ Han Solo. I guess that’s all the security clearance necessary, isn’t it?” Still, he tugs on his leather jacket, previously abandoned on the durasteel floor, and folds his arms over his sturdy chest.

_ [Are you certain, Master-Poe?] _ BB-8 asks, nudging Poe worriedly. When he gives it another nod of confirmation, the droid rolls toward the center of the hold, projecting its bright blue holomap into thin air. Chewie strains from his spot on the couch to get a better look.

Standing slowly, Han eyes the lines and orbits outlined in the holo before shaking his head. “This map’s not complete. It’s just a piece. Ever since Luke disappeared, people’ve been looking for him.”

“Why did he leave?” Poe asks, carefully regarding the elder Solo. At his probing, Rey feels her blood grow frigid.

Purposefully avoiding Rey’s gaze, Han continues pacing around the projection. “He was training a new generation of Jedi. One boy - an apprentice - turned against him and destroyed it all. Luke felt responsible. He just… walked away from everything.”

Poe leans forward in his seat, “Do you know what happened to him?”

Shifting uncomfortably, Rey fights the urge to stand up and leave, stilling her muscles and soothing her frayed nerves.

“A lot of rumors… stories,” Han murmurs. “People that knew him best think he went looking for the Jedi Temple. Despite all I used to believe about the Jedi, turns out it’s not all mumbo jumbo. It’s true. And that’s why Luke tried saving it.”

Chewie groans in pain, the magical moment shattering as suddenly as it came. BB-8 hides its map again as Han goes to comfort his friend. Poe remains seated close by, thoughtful and reflective.

Rey, however, is quivering with an emotion she can’t quite identify. She stands swiftly, nearly knocking over pieces of equipment in the process. “Wake me when we arrive at Takodana.” At the curious look from her father, she adds, “I know that’s where you’re taking us to get clean ships, Papa.”

She heads to her quarters, barely catching the fond glint that’s in her father’s eyes. Gripping the railings, she hoists herself into her bunk and tucks herself under her blankets.

Screwing her eyes shut, she ignores the way her heart twists in grief at the thought of her uncle. She needs to restore herself. She needs to heal.

Her body is barely functioning with her torn muscles and deepset aches. It’s been pushed to the limit, fighting the Tatooine heat, Twi’lek warriors, and rathtars alike. Now, heading to Maz Kanata’s castle on Takodana, Rey has a dizzying feeling that she’ll need to be as rested as possible.

Who knows what kind of trouble they’ll land in while they’re there?

They  _ are _ Solos, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think! :))) i'm sorry this chapter was so short and kind of movie-centric. going to start moving away from that soon
> 
> ~Elsie


	10. an undeniable calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> goodness... it's been a while. i've had this written for a while now, but i lost a lot of my motivation with quarantine. this community is so wonderful and wholesome; thank you all for your supportive comments and kind words <3

Both Rey and Poe catch some much needed shut-eye prior to their landing on Takodana. Thankfully, Rey’s wounds are now mostly healed, and she assumes the same to be the case for Poe. As they enter Maz’s castle, Poe admires the great stone structure from the outside while leading BB forward. Following close behind Han, Rey’s grateful for the lush green earth that covers the pretty planet. She’s so kriffing tired of sand.

Jakku. Tatooine. Both covered in the stuff.

It feels good to walk on solid ground, the heels of her boots sinking lightly into the dirt and grass. It’s such a different sensation from treading across firm durasteel or stumbling through shifting sand.

They enter a courtyard full of brightly colored flags, festively blowing in the cool breeze. Having left Chewie to guard the  _ Falcon _ and recover from his wound, it’s just the three of them, plus BB-8. Han jogs up the short stone staircase leading up to the cantina. “Maz has run this watering hole for over a thousand years, but she’s a bit of an acquired taste. Just let me do the talking and, whatever you do,  _ don’t  _ stare.”

Rey braces herself at that, patting the blaster she’s got secured to her belt.

“At what?” Poe questions, looking over at her curiously.

Waving a cautionary hand, Han merely replies, “At any of it.”

A heavy metal door slides away smoothly, revealing the interior of the cantina. Loud music can be heard playing from within, and Rey’s mind immediately drifts back to the moments where she first met Poe in that Canto Bight bar, ready to turn him in to the highest bidder. She can scarcely believe how quickly everything’s changed in just a matter of days.

There’s a large crowd gathered in the cantina, but somehow, the people feel far less lecherous than the ones on Canto Bight. Some kind of animal she’s never seen before is being roasted on a spit toward the center of the room, and people are socializing and talking together. There are tables toward the back, dedicated to different gambling games like sabacc. The atmosphere’s less frightening, but Rey still keeps one hand poised over her loaded holster.

A short woman carrying a tray of mugs, all empty of drink, stops dead in her tracks and spins around. Her eyes shoot wide open as she bellows, “Han Solo!”

Rey winces, glancing over at her father warily.

At her sudden exclamation, the music cuts off, and glass shatters. Dozens of heads turn around to look at them. “Oh boy…” Han mutters, loud enough only for Poe and Rey to hear. He rubs the back of his neck with one hand, holding up the other in a sheepish sort of wave. “Hey Maz!” he responds awkwardly.

The small woman beckons him forward, adopting a chastising tone, “It’s been a long time, Solo. Bring your companions and come to the back. There’s much to discuss, I know.” Instantly, the cantina roars back to life as Maz escorts them to a secluded room in the back.

Han and Poe follow Maz closely, BB-8 sandwiched between them, with Rey bringing up the rear. She doesn’t like the attention they’ve drawn to themselves, and she urges BB-8 to move quicker, not appreciating some of the close stares they’ve garnered.

They’re barely situated in the room before Maz begins to speak. “Han,” she says, intensely gazing at the elder Solo through her widened goggle lenses. “Go home. Don’t run anymore. Your wife misses you. Your family needs you.”

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Han accepts the drink she passes him, taking a swig. “Maz, we’re actually here to talk about securing at least one clean ship. Do you think you could help us out with that?” he asks, blatantly ignoring Maz’s previous charge. “Poe, here, is with the Resistance, and he needs to get this droid back to Leia.”

“You’re right back in the mess,” Maz chuckles, more to herself than anyone else. “I suppose I can help your young friend with a ship - But only if you promise to return to the base too. You’ve been gone too long, Han.”

Wishing she could melt into the ground, Rey tries to avoid the smaller woman’s pointed stare, knowing just how mysteriously intuitive Maz is. She isn’t successful.

Leaning even further over the table, Maz invades Rey’s personal space, coming so close that Rey could probably count the deepset wrinkles that line the older woman’s wizened face if she wanted to. Rey finds herself pressing farther into the back of her seat as Maz comes even closer.

A crackling silence fills the room. Even BB-8 has grown quiet, and Rey doesn’t like the distinct lack of the little droid’s beeps and trills.

“Rey,” Maz muses softly. “You take after your father. Too much running… from both of you.”

Startled, Rey stands and backs away, stumbling away from the table and rushing for an escape. Maz watches her carefully, preventing Han or Poe from following her. Clumsily, Rey ducks away into a corridor, hoping that she won’t be noticed here. The air is musty and stale; the loud noises of the cantina slowly fade away as she ventures farther down the hall, trailing a calloused hand lightly along the stone walls.

When she reaches the end of the passageway, she arrives at a door. It slides open, and she cautiously enters, feeling her heartrate pick up considerably.

The room’s full of boxes and crates, stacked one on top of the other throughout. There’s a strange tugging at her Force essence, and her brows draw together in confusion. One wooden box in particular catches her eye, and before she knows it, her feet have carried her to stand before it.

Gingerly, she grasps at the rough lid, easily removing the rusted lock that’s hanging from it. The breath catches at the back of her throat as she examines the inside contents of the strange box.

As soon as she lays eyes on it, Rey knows what it is. With a sleek metal hilt, it lies there in a bed of plush velvet, almost calling for her to reach out and take it.

Rey forces herself to take a shaky breath in as her hand reaches out to grasp the ancient weapon. Singing to the Force energy of her soul, it hums in approval as she reaches for it.

It knows where it belongs.

She’s so close to it now, almost able to feel the cool metal held in her palm, almost able to hear its stubborn buzz as it gracefully arcs through the air, almost able to see its determined glow lighting up the darkest of nights.

It tricks her.

As soon as her fingers wrap around the hilt, she feels her body give out from beneath her, collapsing to the floor.

***

_ She’s surrounded. There are hooded silhouettes all around her, Force signatures pulsating strongly with both hatred and anger. The leader, a masked figure with a black hood of his own, viciously runs through a woman before her with his red saber. _

_ A gasp escapes her lips as she realizes that she’s the only one left standing - the only one left to face the masked figure and his lackeys. Her hold on her blue lightsaber is a shaky one, and she swallows back her fear, stepping forward to confront the masked creature. _

_ Before she has the chance to gather her bearings, she’s whisked away, stumbling to a cold, icy ground. Her knuckles are cracked and bloody, and she grips the hard surface, instinctively understanding that she  _ can’t  _ let go. Her body hangs over a deep, dark cliff, and the only thing preventing her from tumbling into it is her deathgrip. _

_ The masked leader from before looms over her, saber raised above his head as he sweeps it down toward her. He’s just about to cleave her small body in two when her hands slip from the slick surface, and she tumbles down. _

_ Down, down, down. _

_ Body slamming against the ground yet again, she struggles to stand, arms shooting out in an attempt to steady herself somehow. The floor is shifting beneath her, and she instantly realizes where she is. _

_ The Jedi Temple. _

_ Glowing embers flit from torches lining the mossy stone walls, eerily lighting the way before her. Shivers run down her spine. She’s avoided the Jedi Temple like a plague for almost six years now; it was abandoned when she was only thirteen. After all that happened, Luke disappeared, and Rey returned to the base to live with her parents. _

_ She’s never felt any desire to return. _

_ As she warily eyes the red stains along the crumbling walls, she remembers why. _

_ For too long, the silence is thick and heavy. She wades through it best she can, high on alert around her. _

_ The hallway is winding and narrow, but the muscles in her body remember the way. Her feet carry her swiftly, and she arrives in the youth sleeping quarters, dark apart from a bluish sort of glow in the center. _

_ The rooms are vacant now, but a little over five years ago, they were full of life. She passes by empty bedroll after bedroll, sleeping mat after sleeping mat. A light breeze passes through, rustling her loose clothing. It’s as though she’s floating through air… like a ghost. _

_ Rey takes in a shuddering breath. _

_ Tentatively, she stretches her fingers out toward the holomap projected in the center of the room, her boots barely making a sound against the stone floor. Before she can fully examine the map, however, a loud buzzing erupts from behind her. _

_ Whirling around, she’s somehow not entirely shocked to find the blue saber back in her hands yet again. Protectively standing before the map, she raises her lightsaber above her head, eyes glinting with determination. _

_ “That’s  _ my  _ saber,” the masked figure roars in realization. Not only does it call to her, she understands, but it calls to him too. “You can’t take my birthright from me. You can’t take what’s mine!” He brings his bleeding red saber down to meet hers. _

_ Straining against his strong attack, Rey shakes her head. “You gave up your birthright. The saber can’t be yours while you’re a slave to this darkness.  _ Ben.  _ Come home.” _

***

She’s trembling, body pressed against the chilled stone floor with the saber lying abandoned beside her. Forcing her aching body to move, she slowly pulls herself up, gaze remaining frozen on the humming saber.

“It calls to you,” Maz’s voice states calmly. “It calls to you as it did to Luke and to his father before him.” She’s standing in the entry, watching Rey closely.

Rey shakes her head quickly in protest. “No, Maz. No. I don’t want it. I don’t want any part of this.”

Pursing her lips, Maz motions to the ancient weapon. “Rey, it is your birthright.”

At the familiar choice of words, Rey’s heart jolts in her chest. “It’s not,” she whispers. “It’s not my birthright. It’s  _ Ben’s _ .” The saber calls out in disagreement, but she shoves its persistant calls away. Without another second glance, she pushes past Maz and flies down the corridor, nearly bumping into Poe. “Sorry,” she mumbles briefly in reply. She takes the stone steps two at a time, coming to a skidding stop once she reaches the back of the cantina.

At her hasty arrival, Han raises a brow but doesn’t say a word.

She attempts to collect herself, brushing the dust from her clothes. Catching his gaze, she brings her shoulders up in a shrug. “What?”

“Nothing,” Han shakes his head, a fond look clouding his eyes.

Heading toward the bar, Rey receives a new drink, downing a hefty swig. “Is Maz going to get Poe a new ship?” Her newly emptied mug hits the wooden table with a thud as she sinks back into her seat.

Han throws his hands up. “Beats me. You know how she can get sometimes.”

Just about to get up for another drink, Rey’s suddenly thrown to her knees, gasping for breath. The Force, which is so normally calm and soothing, has been thrown off kilter, bleeding an ugly red.

Instantly, Han is by her side, throwing an arm around her so that she can stand. “Rey?” he questions, worry tinting his voice.

“He’s here,” Rey finally manages to choke out. “He’s here for the droid. Papa, he’s coming.”


End file.
